Resemblance
by xXDonnaTylerXx
Summary: She'd heard Sirius told, numerous times, that Harry wasn't James. But now, it seems Hermione could do with a reminder that James is not Harry, and what she thinks she feels for him might not be for him after all. Time travel fic.
1. Firmly Present

**Hi everyone, this is my first Harry Potter fic (not including the story I wrote at the age of seven in which I went to Hogwarts :P) although I've been a fan of the series since forever and absolutely adore the characters. This came from a strange little idea I had, exploring the possibility of something betwene Hermione and James - strange, I know, but give it a try. Anyway, I shouldn't give too much away, but give it a read and I really hope you enjoy - feedback would be so so much appreciated to let me know whether or not to carry on. I hope to update soon, but in the meantime enjoy the first part and let me know what you thought :) Thanks! Donna xx**

Chapter One – Firmly Present

"Oh, for goodness' _sake!_"

Hermione's whisper rang through the dormitory, her voice fierce as she threw her blanket aside for what felt like the hundredth time. Toss and turn as she might, sleep just wasn't happening for her that night, and she didn't understand it - She had been positively exhausted when she'd come upstairs, and that was hours and hours ago now. But still, she lay awake.

Sighing, Hermione turned to lie on her left side so she could look at Ginny, sleeping soundly in the bed next to her. It was still strange, being in the same dorm as her and not the likes of Parvati and Lavender, but they of course had graduated in the July of the previous year. Hermione was glad that they had been given the option to return after the battle to complete their final year (and yes it was _they - d_espite Harry and Ron's months of protesting, she had dragged them back, insistent on the importance of finishing their education), but it did mean they'd had to join the year below, and it all just felt a little too off kilter.

She sighed as she looked at Ginny, her eyes wandering to the picture of Harry on the bedside table that Ginny, given her sideways position, had evidently fallen asleep looking at. Hermione didn't think she had ever been as besotted with anyone in her life as Ginny was with Harry - Not Viktor, and _certainly _not Ron. Oh, god.

Ron. She turned away from Ginny and lay back so she was staring at the ceiling, her mind refusing to shut down. All that time, she'd been so sure that a relationship with Ron was what she wanted; it was supposed to make her the happiest girl in the world. So why on earth didn't it? Of course she loved him, of course he meant a lot to her, but... Was it really in that way? Could they ever work, really?

Hermione sighed once again, throwing back her covers and getting out of bed - it was useless trying to attempt sleep any more, her brain was too full of thoughts, all trying to make themselves heard at once. Pulling on a cardigan, she glanced back at Ginny and the picture of Harry one last time to ensure she was asleep, before tiptoeing down to the common room, silently lighting a few candles, delicately stepping toward the fireplace... And crashing noisily into a side table, sending herself and the table flying to the ground.

So much for silence. Hermione hadn't even had time to get to her feet before she heard footsteps descending from behind the door that led to the boys' dormitories, and she groaned - the last thing she felt like doing was explaining herself. But it seemed for the first time that night, luck was on her side, and when the door opened it was only a groggy Harry who entered.

"Hey," He said a little confusedly, his voice husky from sleepiness, "What happened?"

"Oh, just my clumsiness. Subtlety was never my strong point. Thanks." She added as he reached out a hand to pull her to her feet, and righted the table with a flick of his wand. She sighed, finally flopping down into onto the sofa in front of the fire, and turned to look at him. "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh?" Harry looked sympathetic as he sat down beside her, "Why not?"

"I don't know, really, I... Oh Harry, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't be keeping you up - go back to bed."

"No, no, I'm awake now." He smiled, and she returned it.

"Ok. Well, I suppose it's just... All the little things seem to be getting to me. Things that don't even matter."

"I know the feeling." The best part was, Hermione knew he genuinely did. "Sometimes you can't even put your finger on what's wrong, something just... Is."

"Exactly." She said, before a small smile crept onto her face," Hey, you know who _isn't _having trouble sleeping is Ginny. Snores like anything! Plus, and this is cute, she falls asleep looking at your picture."

"She does?" Harry looked a little alarmed, pulling a face, "Whoah. She's certainly - what shall I say - full on."

Hermione smiled, "Oh, but you love it." She laughed, and thankfully so did he, before leaping to his feet.

"Come on!" He said brightly, catching her by surprise as he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, "Let's go for a walk."

"At three in the morning?"

"Yeah! Neither of us are sleeping, right? Come on, we haven't had a good explore in ages."

"Well... Alright then."

But Hermione still wasn't too sure, as she yawned widely while waiting for Harry to return with the invisibility cloak - No, she wasn't asleep, but she was still sure as hell exhausted.

"I feel like we should be creeping to the restricted section of the library to look for clues about Nicolas Flamel." He whispered as they made their way silently down a corridor leading away from the common room, and Hermione laughed.

"Yes, this does all feel rather first-year-ish." She agreed, slipping her arm through his, "Only seven years ago, Harry, it was a lot easier for us to fit under this blooming cloak."

He laughed, and they continued to wander down various corridors at random, laughing and chatting and marveling at how, even after living in the castle for so long, it was still impossible to know every single bit of it. They didn't keep track of where they were going at all, and as they went on they thought less and less about keeping quiet, their conversation rising in volume and their giggles ringing clearly down the stone hallways.

It wasn't until they eventually came very close to an encounter with an irate and tartan-pyjama-clad Professor McGonagall, only managing to silence themselves and whip behind a tapestry in the nick of time, that the two of them decided they had better start to make their way back to Gryffindor tower.

And they fully intended to do so, until they came across an opportunity that they simply couldn't not take: An unrecognizable, very large, and, most importantly, _locked_ door.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Harry whispered, turning to Hermione with the mischievous glint in his eye that he would surely never grow out of, and she bit her lip.

"We shouldn't."

"I know."

There was maybe two seconds pause, while the two of them simply looked at each other, before their faces split into matching grins and, simultaneously, their wands were out. "_Alohomora."_

She had half expected the charm not to work, but nonetheless the door clicked open, and Hermione was bitterly reminded that the enchantments they were now used to working with were far darker and more complex than that in a school - so much had happened that now, they simply _expected_ complications even when there were none.

Pushing this aside, she raised her wand cautiously as she and Harry crept around the open door and into the room, to see a sight she hadn't expected - what seemed to be a large, round, ornate bowl, filed with a mystical smoke-like substance and sitting serenely on a small table in the middle of the room.

"Is that a...?" She breathed, stepping towards it, and Harry did the same, nodding.

"Yeah. Dumbledore's pensieve."

"But... What's it doing here?"

"Dunno." He shrugged, looking genuinely puzzled, "I guess after it all ended, after he died, they wanted to put it somewhere out of the way."

"But, wh-? _Oh!_" Hermione exclaimed as she caught sight of the room's only other contents: A large, glass cabinet, standing in the corner and absolutely full to the brim with corked flasks of the same silvery substance within the pensieve.

Harry made his way over, opening the door carefully, "D'you reckon these are all Dumbledore's?"

"I don't know, I suppose so. Will they still work, even after he's dead?"

"Yeah." Harry replied, taking one of the bottles carefully and studying it, "Yeah, they will. I only saw all of Snape's after he was already dead." Noting the grim expression on his face and slightly sad tone of voice, Hermione placed a hand on his arm - she had heard every last detail of the contents of Snape's memories.

"Hey." She said quietly, "Don't be like that. You were never to know what went on in Snape's life, and even if you did-"

"Forget it, Hermione." He cut her off, but she knew it was simply painful rather than out of rudeness. He planted a smile on his face, breathing a little heavier, "So what say we take a trip down someone else's memory lane? You've never done this before, it's about time."

"Okay." She said eagerly, although there was still a note of caution in her voice as they stepped towards the pensieve, "Does it... Will I...?"

"It's fine." He assured her, "It's a weird sensation, but it doesn't hurt." Harry took her hand, "Ready?"

She nodded firmly, and with a flash of the cheeky smile she knew so well, he poured the contents of the bottle into the large basin. The silvery substance within seemed to thicken, fragments of images appearing and disappearing so fast she could barely make them out. And then, before she knew what was happening, Harry had yanked her down along with him, and the dark room around her seemed to dissolve. He had been right, it was a strange sensation, her head was swimming, unable to focus, the world around her spinning, a whooshing sound filling her ears...

And then suddenly, Hermione found herself standing in the middle of the fifth floor corridor, with sunlight streaming through the windows and students noisily bustling past her, going about their business. She blinked, gaping at Harry, who stood beside her with an amused look on his face.

"So this is...?"

"Yeah."

"And... They can't...?"

"Nope. They can't see us, or hear us." He gestured at the students around them, "It's weird the first time, I know. Wonder what the date is? That's always the trouble when you don't know when you're headed to... Can you see anyone we know?" He glanced at the spot where Hermione had stood, blinking as he registered her absence. But thankfully, she was just a few feet away, peering over the shoulder of a girl who was sitting on a window ledge and writing in her diary.

"It's October 25th, 1978." She marveled, her eyes shining, "Harry, this is so exciting! Of all the things we've done, time travel... My goodness."

"Yeah, 'cause you didn't spend a whole year time-travelling between lessons or anything."

"Oh, shut up, Potter." She smirked, "So, whose memory is this? Dumbledore's not here, so it can't be-"

"I said _bugger off_, Potter!" Came a loud, brisk voice, and Hermione was silenced, she and Harry both whipping around at the sound of his name to see a tall girl of about seventeen stalk past them, swishing her long red hair with a smirk on her face as she glanced over her shoulder.

"And I heard you the first time. But I'm wearing you down, Evans, I know it!" Came the cheeky reply from a boy following her, and Hermione was absolutely astounded by his resemblance to the young man beside her, standing in his pyjamas and gaping at the pair. Unruly black hair, wire-rimmed glasses, the lot... It was remarkable.

"You've been at it for six bloody years, James, I hardly expect..." The girl's voice faded as she and the boy walked further along the corridor, enveloped by the crowd so that Harry and Hermione lost sight of them.

Harry's eyes were wide as he looked at her, his voice full of disbelief, "My Mum and Dad." He practically whispered.

"Now _that _I wasn't expecting." Hermione agreed, "I know you've heard this countless times, Harry, but the resemblance is remarkable!" A small smile made its way onto her face, and she nudged him, "And you've got to admit, there are certain other noticeable parallels… Chasing after the redhead, and all…"

Harry smiled, and opened his mouth as if to speak, but never got his chance. The world around them seemed to grow slightly out of focus, and Hermione knew that he must be experiencing the same tugging sensation that she was. But... She wasn't ready to go yet. This was all so new, so exciting, such a contrast to the dull lives they had led since the war finished...

"No!" She exclaimed, "No, I don't want to go back!"

"We haven't got a choice, Hermione, that's how long the memory is, we have to-"

"No we don't. I may not have done this before but I've read about memories, there are ways to prolong-"

"It's not going to happen!" Harry insisted, looking a little panicked, "Believe me, Dumbledore warned me _so many times _how fragile these things are, how dangerous it could be to-"

"I don't care." Hermione told him firmly. She didn't know what had come over her, why she was defying him like this - if either of them were to express a desire to know more, surely it should be him - but she felt, somewhere deep inside her, that it was vitally important she didn't leave yet. Which was why, despite Harry's pleading and the growing fuzziness of the world around her, she pointed her wand furiously at the floor.

"_Collerachio!" _She yelled, defiantly aiming the sticking charm right at her own feet, and sure enough, they became immovable. Why on earth she had done that, she wasn't sure, why in the world she was so sure that she needed to stay here... And evidently, Harry echoed her sentiments.

"What the hell have you done?" He yelled, his face displaying utter panic as he continued to fade, while Hermione stayed firmly in place, "You don't..."

But that was all she heard of him. Because, with a huge whooshing sound similar to before, the image of Harry was suddenly gone, leaving Hermione still firmly present and standing in the middle of the corridor. Alone.

Well, it seemed, not quite. For although the situation seemed exactly as before, one key detail was different.

"_OW!_" Cursed a disgruntled-looking third year as she walked into her, "Great place to stop, that!"

Hermione couldn't manage a reply, so startled was she that the other students could now see and hear her... Harry had been right. What the hell _had _she done? She didn't want to be stuck here by herself! Oh, she was such an idiot. Thinking quickly, she pointed her wand at her feet and muttered the counter charm, hoping that perhaps by unsticking her feet she would instantly be taken home. No such luck.

For although she could now move her feet, nothing else changed. Nothing could alter the fact that she was standing alone, in her nightclothes, in the middle of the fifth floor corridor, with students passing by all shooting her very strange glances. Oh, and of course, the fact that it was 1978, and she had _absolutely _no idea how to get home.


	2. I Can Imagine

**Hello, and my biggest apologies! It's been far too long a gap between chapters and I feel terrible, but this is a lovely long one to make up for it - I have actually had this written for a little while, but a volatile internet connection mixed with the crazyness of Christmas mean slow updating :P Excuses aside, I really hope you enjoy this, and feedback would be so so much appreciated. Happy new year!**

**Donna xx**

Chapter Two - I Can Imagine

In the long term, or even in the slightly longer term than the immediate, Hermione had absolutely no idea what she was going to do. But in regards to right away, she knew that first and foremost, she needed to get out of sight - that was obvious. And so, her feet leading her automatically, she hurriedly pushed through the disgruntled and suddenly solid students surrounding her, and darted into a small alcove concealed by a tapestry.

Oh god, what had she done? Defying Harry like that, when he had so much experience of visiting memories and she none at all. What had she been _thinking, _assuming because she'd read about something that she was the expert? This wasn't the first time she'd let the know-it-all within get the better of her, and Hermione knew that. What she had to figure out now was what to do.

_Think, Granger. Think, think, think. _

1978. So she'd traveled back exactly twenty years... What had Hogwarts been like twenty years ago? She mentally brought the _1970-80 _chapter of _Hogwarts: A History _to the forefront of her brain, scanning for any information she could remember. 1978... _Members of staff, 40. Total number of students, 1039. House cup winners, Ravenclaw. Quidditch cup winners, Gryffindor. Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore._

Dumbledore. That was it! It was as though her brain woke up as the thought entered her head, things starting to fall into place rather than the sickly, slightly faint feeling she had been experiencing.

Hermione no longer paid any notice to the odd looks she was receiving as she darted out from behind the tapestry and through the corridors, her feet pounding out the familiar route automatically, only one thought on her mind: She had to find Dumbledore.

After what felt like far too long, she skidded to a stop in front of the gargoyle guarding his office, only registering once she was there, the statue shooting her a dirty look, that a password was required for entrance.

"Um..." Hermione wracked her brain desperately, "I don't know... Chocolate frogs? Crystallised pineapple? Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans? Fizzing Whizzbees? Oh, for goodness' _sake!" _She exploded, aiming a fierce kick at the smug looking statue in frustration, and only succeeding in sending a violent pain through her foot.

"I would ask, my dear, that you cease with the violence toward my guarding gargoyle, he is merely doing his job." Came the gentle voice she knew so well, and Hermione spun around, relief flooding through her as she saw Albus Dumbledore approaching, a mildly interested smile on his face. "However, I am very much intrigued as to what urgent situation required you try to visit me with such desperation? And in your nightclothes, might I add."

"Professor!" She gasped, "Oh, I'm so glad to see you..."

* * *

"So, you're telling me you've heard of a situation like this before?" Hermione asked, feeling somewhat calmer as she sat opposite Dumbledore at his desk, having just explained her whole story to him.

"Oh, yes, many a time." He replied calmly, and Hermione wondered if he was even capable of getting flustered, "Memories are tricky entities, Miss, um..."

"Granger."

"Granger. Do forgive me, my dear. It's not too common a name among our kind, now is it? As I was saying, memories are fragile, Miss Granger, and I would warn anyone who was considering exploring them of the... _dangers _associated with them."

"Yes, sir. That's what Harry said, you'd warned him hundreds of times but me, being stupid, well, I..." But it wasn't the excuse for her stupidity Dumbledore seemed intrigued by, as he lowered his half-moon glasses slightly.

"Harry...?"

"Yes, my friend, sir. Harry Potter."

"Potter? Now that is interesting. Any relation to the, ah... Ragamuffin, shall I say, currently in year seven?" His eyes twinkled, and despite herself, Hermione smiled - oh, how she had missed the headmaster's strange way with words. But when she started to answer him, she bit her lip. She was in completely uncharted waters here - how much could she tell him? Should she even have mentioned Harry at all? Oh, goodness, she had no idea how this worked.

"Um..." She tried, "I don't really know who you mean. If there's someone here called Potter then I suppose they _could _be related, but I'm not sure."

"Indeed." Dumbledore said, somewhat knowingly, "Well, Miss Granger, I expect you'll be pleased to know that I can be of some help to you. A pensieve is a very powerful device, with transportation abilities quite unlike any other object."

"So..." She allowed her hope to rise for a moment, "You can get the pensieve to send me back?"

"Yes." He said, and her heart soared despite his slight hesitancy, "But not immediately, I'm afraid. It will take some time for me to alter it, and find exactly the right place for you to return to, but yes. It can be done."

"Professor..." Hermione began worriedly, "I really can't thank you enough, but... But when you say a while...?"

"Oh, around six weeks or so." He said airily, and her eyes widened, "It could be slightly less, or slightly longer, but it will be in that vicinity. In the meantime, I'm sure you can fit in here for a little while. Once you're out of your nightclothes, you'll blend in perfectly with the other, ah...?"

"Seventh years." She informed him in a whisper, her head spinning. She was going to have to stay here for_ six weeks_? She hadn't anticipated that at all. What was she going to do? What would the current students say? Would Harry be alright, having traveled back alone? Could she contact him? Her mind was filled with hundreds of questions, but as Dumbledore stood to usher her towards the door, she somehow didn't think she'd find answers to even half of them.

Hermione also became aware that he had been talking to her, and she, in a daze, hadn't taken in a word. Luckily, the headmaster didn't seem to have noticed, and she quickly tuned him back in as they reached the door to his office.

"...Pomfrey; she'll be able to get you some robes with no problem, and then you can go down to the hall in time for lunch. Will that be alright?"

"Um... Yes." Hermione agreed, sure that she had at least caught the gist of what he was saying, "And... Thank you, Professor. I really don't know what I would have done without you."

"Oh, it's quite alright, my dear." He said kindly, that slightly mischievous look that was oh-so-Dumbledore back on his face, "And you never know. You might just find that you learn a thing or two while you're here. Don't hesitate to come and see me, Miss Granger!"

And before she knew it, he had closed the door behind her, leaving Hermione with no option but to set off for Madame Pomfrey. She was still a little dazed, and not looking forward to her attempt to explain why, as a new student, she had arrived with no equipment ad no clothes but a pair of pyjama bottoms, a vest and a muggle cardigan.

But, to her surprise, once she had improvised her visit to the hospital wing and was back in a clean set of Gryffindor robes, Hermione couldn't help but feel refreshed, and overall much more positive about her situation - surely she could last for six short weeks here? It wouldn't be so bad; almost like the most intensive History project ever. To be able to experience firsthand the reality of school life twenty years in the past, to note the differences in the way the lessons were-

"_Ow!" _An almost barking cry cut into Hermione's thoughts, as she realised she had been so caught up in her wonderings that she hadn't looked where she was going in the slightest, and as a result had walked slap-bang into a boy as he exited a classroom on her right, "Steady on!"

"I'm so, sorry, really, I..." But Hermione's insistent apologies faded as she looked up into the boy's face, and was filled with recognition. Recognition, as well as overwhelming joy, sadness, and a few hundred other emotions that she could barely keep track of, given that she had thought she'd never see this person again.

He looked her up and down, for now ignoring the amazed look on her face, "A bollocking off Flitwick, and then being practically rugby tackled in the corridor, _not _what I- _Ooft!_"

The boy was cut off, likely winded by the force with which Hermione had just thrown he arms around him.

"_Sirius!_" She exclaimed, only realising once she'd done it how inappropriate it was to be hugging this boy who had never met her before... God, she really needed to start working on her understanding of the phrase 'think before you act'.

"Er..." He looked, unsurprisingly, a little confused and a lot alarmed, and Hermione couldn't blame him.

"I'm sorry." She hastily pulled away, blushing, "I didn't mean to, er... Thought you were..." She could barely form a coherent sentence, so overwhelmed was she to see him again and so mortified at the instinctive way in which she'd reacted.

"It's ok." He said, still looking a little put out, but with the tiniest of smirks making its way onto his face as he surveyed her, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. If only every girl greeted you like that, eh? Although," Alright, Hermione thought, now he was definitely smirking, "As it's me, most girls do."

She had to try her hardest not to laugh at his cockiness - now she could see how true the stories really were about him as a teenager. And Hermione, who knew the genuine, reliable man he would grow up to be, didn't fall for it in the slightest. But this was a start, she thought - at least she knew one person out of a thousand, and wouldn't be completely alone.

"Alright." She rolled her eyes, "My apologies for what happened when I saw you, and make no mistake in realising that it meant nothing. Secondly, I'm..." She figured she might as well play the part, "I'm new here, so I'd greatly appreciate someone showing me the way to the Great Hall.".

He agreed, but nevertheless the smirk didn't leave his face as he began to lead her along the corridor. Hermione barely took in her surroundings as they went - she had been in Hogwarts for as long as she remembered, but Sirius himself was a sight she _wasn't_ used to seeing, and one that she hadn't realised she missed so much. Despite obviously looking younger, the kind eyes were still there, the casual half-strut as he walked. The air of authority he carried without even trying... She tried to remember the last time she'd spoken to him, and was horrified to realise that she couldn't. It must have been one of their mass goodbyes as she and the others left Grimmauld Place after the holidays... Or perhaps in the Gryffindor fireplace? Was that before or after-? Oh, it was all too much.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

"Yeah." Hermione snapped out of her reverie, "Sorry. I was just-"

"Just busy staring at me?" He raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. This really _wasn't _the Sirius she had known.

"No, actually. I was busy listening to what you had to say. Some people actually look at each other when they're having a conversation."

"Alright!" He held up his hands, "Steady! It just seems like if you'd been listening you'd have answered my question. I said how come you're only joining this year; you're not foreign."

"No. Well." Hermione wracked her brains, whilst trying to keep her cool. Could she have transferred...? No, at this time there were no other wizarding schools in Britain. "I was, um, always home educated up until now. See, my um, dad's a wizard but my mum's a muggle, and she was quite skeptical about the whole idea when I turned eleven, wasn't sure she wanted me learning magic." What a bizarre, but somehow plausible story to come up with on the spur of the moment, she thought as they reached the bottom of the marble staircase and made their way across to the hall.

"So I didn't come to Hogwarts right away, but the compromise was that my father would teach me magic, just so my mum could be-"

"Moony!" Sirius cut her off, yelling at someone just about to head into the Great Hall, "Wait for us!"

Initially, Hermione was too busy being indignant about Sirius not really listening to her hastily thought up but well-crafted story to realise who he was talking to. However, as the figure ahead of them looked over his shoulder and slowed down so they could catch up, her eyes widened. Remus.

She has prepared herself to see the other people of this era and not react in the same instinctive way she had when she'd seen Sirius, but as she took in his face, looking mildly interested to see Sirius with someone new, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. However much she had loved and admired Sirius back in the present, Remus Lupin had meant an incomparable amount to her. An inspiration, from the first lesson he'd taught them; something like a father figure as she'd struggled to come to terms with the seriousness of the Order; someone who'd helped her be there for Harry. Of everyone who died fighting the cause, his death had been the most life-shattering for her; the one she'd missed the most.

And here he was, seventeen years old, standing in front of her and looking (understandably) a little concerned.

"Hi, Padfoot." he said as they approached, smiling before turning to her, "And who's th... God, are you alright?"

"I'm..." Hermione barely whispered, choosing instead to nod as she tried to stop herself from bursting into tears. Sirius, who seemed to have appointed himself in charge of her, rolled his eyes and absent-mindedly patted her shoulder.

"Newbie." He informed his friend as they made their way into the hall, "And she acted like this when she met me, too. Maybe she's just a bit overexcited by new people. Remus Lupin, meet... hang on, what was your name?"

Hermione, who had subtly wiped away the tear that had escaped, was a little put-out by his assuming to know her so well already - but then again, this was Sirius Black.

"Hermione." She said instinctively, not even stopping to wonder whether she should give a false name, "Hermione Gr... anger." She had trailed off for a moment as they had reached a spot halfway down the Gryffindor table. While Remus had calmly sat down on the side they were stood next to, Sirius had shot a cautionary look up at the staff table before hopping up onto the bench and deftly jumping across to the other side, so he could sit opposite Lupin and beside a black-haired boy whom Hermione recognised.

She hovered for a few seconds, wondering whether this was a dismissal and she ought to find somewhere else to sit, but then Sirius, already heaping chicken pie onto his plate, glanced up.

"Are you sitting down then or what, love?" Hermione blinked.

"Manners, now, Padfoot." The boy next to him said casually, without raising his head from the essay he was reading, and Hermione surveyed him as she took the seat next to Remus. She was sitting opposite the boy who she knew to be Harry's father, and felt a whole new kind of sadness to before.

When she'd seen Sirius and Remus, she'd felt a pang of loss for what they'd brought to her life, for how much they were missed. But here, looking at him, this was different. This was a man who she'd never known, but who she _should _have. If everything was right with the world, he'd have been as big a part of her life as his friends, and an even bigger part of his son's. He'd had it snatched away before he'd even begun, and this, to Hermione, was the most tragic thing of all - while she and Harry had thousands of memories of a laughing, loving, _alive _Remus and Sirius, they did not have one single memory of James.

Finally, he looked up from his paper, and as Hermione properly saw his face for the first time she felt almost nauseous. At a glance, she could so, so easily be looking into the face of Harry, down to the very last detail.

"Oh," He said pleasantly, a little surprised, "You're not Peter!" Even his voice sounded like his son's.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little, "No, I'm not! Is that a problem, or...?"

"Oh no, you're much more preferable." James grinned, and she almost - _almost - _found herself blushing, "If a little unexpected. I'm James, by the way."

"Hermione." She said with a smile, and they somewhat mock-formally shook hands over the table.

"So, Hermione, are you-?"

"Thee wa' 'ome 'thooled." Said Sirius through a mouthful of food, in answer to James' unasked question. Hermione was reminded forcefully of Ron, both because of how well he knew his best friend to the extent of predicting his question, and because of his appalling table manners. She shuddered a little.

"Home-schooled?" Remus, at least, had been able to understand his friend, and Hermione nodded a little unsurely - it looked like this was now the story she'd have to stick with. And so, she launched into the story she'd began to give Sirius, with added embellishments here and there, and given her usual tendency to crack under scrutiny, she was quite proud of it.

"So other than your dad, do you not know any other witches or wizards?" James asked interestedly, and Hermione answered before she could stop to think.

"Oh, no, I've got my friend Harry." She blurted, looking anywhere but at James, "And my, erm..." She was loathed to say it, but it did seem unfair to mention Harry and not him, "My boyfriend. And his sister. And his brothers, and his mum and dad... I know quite a few magical people, actually."

"Oh," James looked genuinely interested, "And did he mind you coming here, or...? I can imagine it must be hard being away from him."

"I suppose it will be," Hermione said a little unwillingly, "But I'm not going to be here for very long, so-"

"Why, where're you going?" Sirius wasted no time in cutting her off, his fork halfway to his mouth, and she froze. She hadn't meant to say that.

"I, um, well, I don't think I'm going to stay at the school very long." She said slowly, wracking her brains for a reason, "Because... Because, well, I'm only here on a sort of... trial period." _I suppose that'll have to do, _Hermione thought, a little disappointed in her own imagination, "To get, you know, a flavour of school life. I mean," She reassured the three boys, who all looked a little confused, "I'll be attending lessons as usual while I'm here, but I won't be sitting my exams. It'll likely be about six weeks, I should think."

"Blimey," said James, "That'll not be a lot of time to get your head around lessons; do you think you'll manage alright?"

Hermione, thinking a little smugly of her predicted grades for the coming summer (all 'Outstanding's, naturally), smiled. "Oh, I expect I'll manage. The work isn't much different from what I've been doing at home, so..."

"Well, if you need any help."James smiled, and Hermione admired his kindness, even if she was positive she wouldn't need it.

"Thanks. That's much appreciated." Oh, how she'd surprise them in her first lesson of the year, she thought excitedly as James continued, "In fact, you can have a look at my latest Transfiguration essay, if you like. I've just had it marked."

"Oh, put it away, James, you smug git." Sirius snorted.

"Oi! I'm not being smug, I'm just-"

"Ah, give it a rest, you never stop bragging."

"Bragging? You're one to talk, Padfoot, what was it you got in your latest Charms test?"

"That's beside the point, _I _don't go telling the whole school about it..."

But Hermione barely heard a word, so astounded was she to have looked down at the essay in question to see a large, proud 'O' in the top right hand corner, followed by a tirade of praise from Professor McGonagall in the teachers' comment. Her mind was whirring with disbelief as she skimmed the fantastically written essay - Despite his resemblance in so many ways, perhaps James wasn't very much like Harry at all...

But then she looked up to see that his focus had shifted from her entirely, as James craned his neck to not-so-subtly keep his eye on Lily Evans, who had just sat down with a group of friends a little further down the table. Then again, Hermione thought as she rolled her eyes and took in the scene: three friends, one shoveling down food, one with their head in a book, the other with messy black hair and glasses, who was shamelessly mooning over the popular redhead.

Some things never changed.


End file.
